


Example

by yeaka



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, Dominance, Established Relationship, Ficlet, M/M, Mirror Universe, Oral Sex, Public Blow Jobs, Submission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-14
Updated: 2013-06-14
Packaged: 2017-12-14 23:18:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/842569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kirk enjoys his first officer in the middle of the bridge for all to see.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Example

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for anon's "First officers are required to service their captain sexually if that's what the captain desires. I'd like to see a fic where Spock or female!Spock gives Kirk a blowjob in this context. Kneeling or crouching, deepthroat, heavy on the submission/humiliation aspects--Kirk controls everything, maybe with some light slapping/hair-pulling. Spock is not allowed to touch Kirk's cock" prompt on the [Star Trek ID Kink Meme](http://strek-id-kink.livejournal.com/1695.html?thread=745631#t745631). 
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

The Empire’s acquired a new planet, thanks to the brilliant Captain Kirk. Jim requires a round of applause from his ever-kowtowing bridge crew, and then they’re traipsing away from the planet, ready to rendezvous with the greater fleet. The planet’s already surrendered, but that’s no reason not to occupy it. 

Jim’s still chuckling to himself with pride when the bridge doors slide open, and his first officer strolls in, head down and flipping through a PADD.

Spock’s feet automatically walk to Jim’s chair, and when he’s close enough, Jim reaches lazily out and slaps his arm. Spock doesn’t even look up from his PADD. He sinks slowly to his knees, then to his ass, sitting beside the captain’s chair, where he’s meant to be. Leaning on his armrest, Jim pets Spock’s perfect hair fondly, drawling, “I suppose you heard of my accomplishment from wherever you were?”

Spock finally turns off his PADD, looking up to say with a complete lack of expression, “You have successfully obtained a new world for the Empire. Most impressive, Captain.”

“And I did it without my first officer on the bridge,” Jim adds. It’s a thinly veiled threat; anyone else would wince. Spock, being _Spock_ and knowing Jim, doesn’t. 

Still, he replies, “I was present through the vast majority of the negotiations, Captain, and I only deviated shortly ago in order to observe the trouble in Engineering.” It’s no excuse. His face says that he doesn’t mean it to be; he’s merely reporting.

Jim doesn’t care. He waves his hand aside. He doesn’t care if Engineering’s fixed. That’s on Scotty’s head. Spock is supposed to be at his side at _all times_ , and of all the rules, that’s Jim’s favourite to enforce. He lets Spock stray most of the time, but other times he’ll reel it in for punishment, adoring the way Spock acquiesces with ease, and Jim spreads his legs in anticipation.

He sees the familiar flash of hungry quickly surprised in Spock’s eyes. On the bridge, it’s just another duty. Jim slumps leisurely down in his chair, already unzipping his fly. “Get over here, Commander,” Jim coolly informs his first. “Or you’ll be an ensign instead.”

Spock doesn’t need threats. He’s perfectly behaved, perfectly already _Jim’s_ in every sense, and he knows all of the Empire’s starship protocols. He knows what warrants punishment, and he knows what Jim’s entitled to do instead of the agonizer. It’s rare that Jim actually puts Spock in a booth. (And when he does, it’s more to humiliate Spock by forcing him to show pain than the pain itself.) Not that Spock doesn’t look particularly scrumptious, writhing in anguish... 

Spock looks delicious doing most things. He leaves the PADD at the side of the chair and crawls around to climb between Jim’s legs, sitting down on his knees. Then he leans forward and rests his head on Jim’s thigh, waiting. He knows he won’t be allowed the use of his hands, and they stay submissively in his lap. His face is a blank slate again: _want_ is a secret just for the bedroom. 

Jim pulls out his cock and lets it fall heavily onto that pretty face. Spock closes his eyes and lets it hit him, waiting for permission to do anything else. Out the corners of his eyes, Jim can see various members of his crew swiveling subtly in their chairs, getting a peek. Jim could order any of them to suck him off, right here and right now, but it’s his first officer that’s required to please him and keep him satisfied. Two duties in one. It’s Spock he always wants. Spock will take it for a punishment, prefer it that way, and he’ll do his utmost to please his master and keep protocol in check. 

Spock puts his all into everything. Jim sighs offhandedly, as though merely giving in to Spock’s request, “You may pleasure me.”

Spock nods and instantly has his tongue out, swiping up the shaft of Jim’s cock. Thick and full on, flattened and lips pressed close. Full sensation. Jim’s eyes close, head leaning back against the chair. The smile’s already on his lips, and Spock lathers Jim’s cock up with long, broad strokes, from base to tip and back down again. Then he’s lapping at it faster and hungrier, lips popping around the head. 

Jim inevitably creaks his eyes open, just enough to see Spock impaling himself on Jim’s cock. He forces bit by bit into his tight mouth, and Jim gasps at the heat and moisture that surrounds him, glorious as always. Spock gives head like a pro. Jim wonders vaguely if they teach it in Vulcan schools: how to please their superiors. 

If they did, Spock would’ve gotten a perfect score, and not simply because he gets a perfect score on everything. He slides all the way down to Jim’s base, until his nose is buried in Jim’s blond curls and his chin is buried in Jim’s balls. Jim groans loudly, not giving a damn about all the officers watching him. His cock is down Spock’s throat, and the way it quivers around him is unimaginably exquisite. Then Spock _sucks_ , and it’s enough for Jim to throw his head back and _moan_.

 _Fuck_ , Spock’s good at it. He’s done this so many times that he knows exactly what Jim likes, and he starts to bob up and down on it with vigor, eagerly rocking back and forth. He betrays himself with his growing interest. He sucks each time he pulls off, then blows when he goes down, and the pressure makes Jim ravenous. His fingers slip down into Spock’s neat hair, fisting in it and tugging it, just wanting to break it, because he loves when Spock isn’t perfect. Debauching his Vulcan is his favourite pastime. He looks up once to see Sulu and Chekov turned around and watching them, and he nods with a smirk; wouldn’t they like to have this. 

They can’t. Spock is _his_. When Spock became first officer, he agreed to that. He’s Jim’s right hand, in every sense of the word. 

He doesn’t moan or hum around Jim’s cock like he would when they’re in private, but he’s doing such a good job that Jim lets that slide. Jim traces the points of his ears for the heck of it, thumbing them lightly and then back to his bangs. Spock makes such a gorgeous picture, and twice, he slides all the way down and shifts his head subtly from side to side, so Jim can see his cock bulge out of Spock’s cheeks. Spock’s lips are already a little swollen, pink and wet. His cheeks don’t flush like they should, but his eyes do close, dark lashes so lovely against his pale skin. His eyebrows are knit together in concentration, then relaxed in subconscious knowledge. He sucks and he bobs and he _behaves_ , and Jim desperately wants to come down his throat. 

But Jim wants to paint his face more. When Jim feels his balls tighten, he yanks Spock back by the hair, reaching down to grab himself and aim. He barks, “Open your mouth, Commander,” and Spock _does_. He sticks his tongue out like the fucktoy he is and doesn’t even flinch at the tone. He’s a commander when Jim wants him to be, and he’s a sex slave when Jim wants him to be. He closes his eyes again as the wave of cum hits him, right in the face. 

Jim can’t help snickering when he does it. He’s an alpha male and he knows it; he comes more than any man has a right to. His heavy load splatters all over Spock’s sharp features, draping across his nose and stringing in his hair, slipping down one eyelid and running down his chin. The majority hits his tongue, and Spock dutifully waits while his mouth is filled. Jim doesn’t even have to pump himself to get it all out; the sight alone is enough. When he’s done, he leans forward and wipes his slit off on Spock’s forehead, smearing his ruined bangs. 

Then Jim taps under Spock’s chin, and Spock obediently closes his mouth, audibly swallowing. Jim watches the way his adam’s apple bobs, and Spock has to swallow twice to get it all down. Then he says in a completely even tone of voice, “Thank you, master.”

“You’re welcome, pet,” Jim laughs, leaning back in his chair. And _that_ is why Spock’s his favourite—why Spock always gets the good away missions and the most rations. He doesn’t appreciate it, of course—he thinks he can get by on his talents. 

His talents include sex, whether he’ll admit it or not, and he waits on his knees for further instructions. He has to keep his eyes closed, because there’s cum draped over them. 

Jim taps his chair with his fingers while he thinks. Spock’s such a perfect picture like that. But then, he’s also Jim’s science officer, and more valuable working. 

So Jim sighs and barks, “Chekov!”

The young ensign instantly turns around in his chair, stiff as a board and looking half ecstatic and half terrified. “Yes, Keptain?” He clearly means to shout it properly, but instead it comes out a scared squeak. 

Jim kicks Spock lightly with his boot and purrs, “Come lick my first officer clean.”

Chekov nods and is out of his seat in a flash, getting down to the floor and leaning in, whispering around a guilty grin, “Sorry, sorry,” to his Vulcan superior. 

Spock cracks one eye open, watching Jim and raising an eyebrow. Jim chuckles

And he doesn’t bother to tuck himself back in, because he’s getting ready for next time.


End file.
